Irresistible
by Shandy777
Summary: There is a war raging, a battle between Good Ones and Evils. John Cena - a Good One - meets an enemy - Randy Orton, who is one of the most feared Evils known. When plots develop, as feelings start to grow, the two are sucked into a battle that darkens.
1. The Beginning

_I have been working on this story for over a year now. This is actually the second copy. Irresistible was one of the first stories I had written and I decided that I was going to try to recreate the plot again since I felt as though my writing had improved since then. So, this is my second attempt. Please _review _and tell me what you think. I love hearing what you guys have to say – the good and the bad._

_~ Shandy777_

**-x- -x- -x- -x- -x- -x- -x- -x- -x- -x-**

~ Chapter1 – The Beginning ~

It is funny how things just spring on us, giving us no chance of thinking, no way of strategizing before the act happens. Sometimes we are all just faced with a decision – no matter how small – and just have to respond the best way we can right there on the spot. Cody Rhodes was faced with that decision hundreds of years ago and he lived with it every single day since then. At the time he thought that he was making the right choice. After all, he was the reason the events turned out the way they did. Because of his selfishness and immaturity, he lost something – someone – dear to him. Doing what he did . . . he felt as though he was giving the life he felt he took from that person back to him. Cody felt like he made the right choice that day, but as those days turned into weeks, those weeks turned into months, and those months turned into years, Cody was slowly beginning to see that his decision wasn't the right one at all.

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt a familiar presence around him. Looking up from the slouched position he was in, Cody looked in the general direction of the presence. He was right about that. No sooner had he looked up, the black and red shimmering circled around the area before a figure stepped from the gas-like substance. The figure was large – a lot bigger than Cody was, that was for sure. He was incredibly tan, his body perfect to the eyes of humans and to their own species. The man's arms were graced with dark skulls and wings that circled over the taut muscles of his biceps all the way down to his wrists. He was a good looking man, though his most attractive feature were his eyes, which were a beautiful, icy, pale blue colour that seemed to pierce right through to the very core. Looking into those eyes, you could see everything. The man's emotions reflected in those eyes.

Even through the guilt that lied with Cody, he couldn't help but smile at the sight of him – Randy Orton. Standing to his feet, Cody took a few steps, intent on greeting the man, only to be stopped when a cold chill filled the atmosphere around them. And just like that, the somewhat happy feeling Cody once had was gone, being replaced with a terror that was known all around the Underworld. Slowly, the small man moved over to the wall, hoping to get lost in its great rocks, needing to disappear in the shadows. The black, ominous shimmers filled the area right beside the tattooed man named Randy, who – even though appeared dangerous – tensed and took several steps back. The black cloud grew darker and darker until a figure stepped out, looking even more perilous than the shimmers. His blue-green eyes immediately found what they were searching for and smirked coldly as he reached for Randy Orton, his hand wrapping around and gripping the man's wrist, jerking him toward him until their bodies were pressed against each other. Randy didn't seem to like it very much, but he remained quiet, his piercing stare fixed on the ground, waiting for the man to say or do something else.

"How many have you collected?" The man's eerie voice questioned, the lowness of it reverberated against the rocks, making it seem louder than it appeared.

"Not many yet . . . it's still early, though." Randy replied, finally looking up when the man questioned him. He wasn't like the usual Evils. There was defiance to him, an attitude that stuck with him even after death. Looking down, Randy's eyes came to rest of the closeness of their bodies, and the hand that still gripped – rather tightly – his wrist. Before any other thought could be made to the position he was in, the man's voice brought him from those thoughts.

"You haven't answered my question, Randal," The grip the dark man had on Randy's wrist seemed to tighten the second his sentence ended, a tightness that made the slightly smaller man wince and tug at his wrist, trying to free himself from the sudden pain that was being generated. The man wouldn't let go, though. Instead, he seemed to walk Randy backwards until he had him pressed against the wall, his free hand coming to rest on the rocks beside the confined man's head. "I asked you how many you've collected."

"Not many, as in less than five," Randy replied, jerking himself free of the larger man that was just looming over him, sealing whatever personal space he had off. When the man drifted too close, Randy immediately turned his head away and closed his eyes, his body tensing when he left those cold lips press against his warm skin, sending chills racing down his body. "Taker, stop . . ."

"Why?"

It was hard to think of a response when your mind was going into a panicked frenzy, when you're desperate for a way out; an escape that you knew was your only resort, your last chance. It was hard to think when the man named Taker had his lips pressed against Randy's neck. His heart was racing a thousand miles a minute and – when Taker started to chuckle against his neck – Randy was sure he was well aware of it, too. He shifted uncomfortably, but stopped the second Taker's equally cold hands came to rest on his body, his fingers digging into his hips.

"Stop," Randy once again said his voice tight, as if he were trying to control himself. His steel blue eyes glared through the ancient stones that lined the wall, craving space, fresh air. Even though he called the Underworld his home, it wasn't his sanctuary, and knowing that he would have to come home to _this_ almost every single day angered him. Yes, Taker was one half Ruler of the Underworld, but it didn't give him the right to assault him almost every single time he came down there. It didn't give him the right to corner Randy and touch him, to violate his space. As much as it pissed him off, he couldn't help but shrink back and flinch when Taker's hand reached up, his cold fingers gliding gently down the side of Randy's face, his fingers trailing along his jaw line.

"Why?" Taker asked again, loving the power that he held over his favourite Evil. Oh, he had plans for Randy Orton. He just couldn't wait until the day finally came.

Taking a deep breath, Randy turned his head to where he was looking his master right in the eyes. Narrowing his eyes, he fixed Taker with his icy stare. "Because you're pissing me off, that's why."

The portentous chuckle that emitted from Taker's mouth sent visible shivers rolling down Randy's body, freezing him right to the core. He hated Taker. No matter how strong that hate was Randy still feared him. He was sarcastic and ill-tempered and he often spoke without thinking, and most of the time Taker warned him and let it go, but sometimes . . . sometimes he snapped and a different side to the man was shown. It was something that kept Randy shaking long after it happened, it was something that kept Randy looking over his shoulder, fearing to see the cold eyes of his master. Most of the time he knew he was crossing the line, but just couldn't help it; his anger just got the best of him. Not only that, but lately, Randy had been noticing a change in Taker, a side of him that – as he continued seeing it – got more and more creeped out by it. Recently, the half Ruler of the Underworld had been giving Randy more attention. He had been showing up at the most random of places, either checking up on Randy or simply watching while he did his job – collected the lost. It was unnerving at times and Randy did his best to just ignore it, hoping that he would go away and stop. That's what he got for hoping, though. Where he was at, the predicament that he was in . . . _hoping_ would get him nowhere.

The sickening smile crept across the face of Taker as he slowly took a few steps back watching as Randy slowly began to relax, though his body was still very rigid from the close invasion. He motioned to nothing in particular, his cold eyes staring right through the man who was still pressed against the ancient rocks in the depths of the Underworld.

"Go. Do not come back until you've collected more souls," Taker commanded. Though his voice sounded calm, there was a velvety warning – _come back without more souls then you'll pay the consequences_.

Randy didn't need to be told twice. After giving Taker one last cold glare, the red and black gas-like substance was back, encasing Randy before dissipating completely. Randy was gone. Cody had to release the breath he had been holding for the entire altercation. It was unsettling to see Taker so close to Randy. Whenever the two were even in the same area as each other, all Cody would feel was bad vibes. Something was right, especially with the way Taker stared at Randy, as though he had bigger plans for him . . . something he knew Randy would be unwilling about . . .

"Do not look at me like that, Cody," The uncanny voice of Taker brought Cody out of his thoughts, his entire body freezing the second Taker turned around, his cold eyes landing on the smaller man. "You brought it on the boy."

It was with those six words that brought the guilt right back down on Cody's shoulders, making him feel that much unworthy, that much undeserving. He made a mistake five hundred years ago. A part of him felt like he knew it back then, too, but was just too afraid to admit it. Taker was right. He had no right to judge, especially after what he did . . . after condemning his own blood – his own _brother_ – to a life among the Evils, a life in the Underworld . . . a life of corrupting and stealing the souls of the lost, of the less fortunate.

Because of his own selfishness, Cody Rhodes killed his brother and cursed him to an eternity of living hell.

-x- -x- -x- -x- -x-

The air was fresh with a breeze constantly blowing through the clouds where the man sat, his eyes closed. John Cena leaned back, the weight of his body resting on his hands as he dropped his head, enjoying the coolness, yet warmth of Paradise, a place he happily called home. The ambience around was calming and relaxing – peaceful. There was no worry, no anger or hate. At Paradise, all was well. Or that was until the War. Alas, there were still sacred places that weren't tainted with the new feelings that were slowly making its way through the clouded plains. John was at one of those places now. Sighing in content, John laid back, his head coming to rest on the softness that was the clouds.

He had done well so far that day, which was one of the many reason why John decided to come back home for a bit, to just take a few moments to collect himself before going back down to Earth to collect more souls. John chuckled softly as he reviewed his last thought. _Collecting souls_ . . . he could just see the look of horror on the human's faces whenever he said those two words, their thoughts immediately turning to the negatives. No, John didn't hurt them. He didn't kill them and steal their souls like they automatically assumed he would. Instead, John felt them with an imprint, a reassurance of peace and of harmony. The souls called to him, whether they are bad or good. It didn't matter. John would come to those souls and, if they were bad, he would give them comfort and faith, he would encourage them to do what was right and just, to not be afraid to fail. If their will was strong enough, the feeling that would overcome John meant that he saved their soul, that he collected a part of it. That was his job – to save the helpless, to lead them to the right path. The bad souls were tricky, having already failed and were already disgraced with themselves and everything around them. When John encountered those souls, he did his best to assure them that all was not lost, that they still had a chance to change their ways. It was hard to speculate which way they would go, but John was very good at his job, and most of the time he would feel joy and happiness. That was when he just knew he had saved them.

It was when he was thinking about those souls that he felt a tingling feeling inside of him. He knew what that feeling was and quickly got to his feet, making his way through the clouds until he got to a white castle-like place. Looking around, John saw many that were like him – Good Ones – men and women who were subjected to the same cause he was fighting for. They were his brothers and sisters. He passed through a maze of pale flowers, all reflecting beautiful, pastel blues, pinks, purples, and greens, until he found Hunter and Shawn – the Rulers of Paradise. Feeling his presence, both Rulers turned and smiled as John drew closer to them.

"We are sorry to disrupt you, John. We know you were resting in the Consecrated Plains," Shawn apologized, reached out and taking Hunter's hand.

John smiled and waved the apology off. There was no need for it. "Don't worry about it, Shawn. What can I do for you?"

"We actually just wanted to check up on you, to see how you were doing."

Though his voice was pleasant and friendly, it was hard not to see the worry and apprehension in both of their eyes. John understood why, of course – the War that they had been fighting at been taking its toll on all of them. Though they had been collecting many souls, it just wasn't enough. The Evils had been collecting even more. It was easier to follow sin.

"It's . . . it's getting difficult to find pure souls," John admitted, sighing softly. As much as he wanted to tell Shawn and Hunter that all was going well, he couldn't lie to them. They already knew the truth. "I'm still looking, though. I'm not going to give up."

Shawn nodded sadly, the smile he gave just as miserable. Sensing his worry, Hunter squeezed his hand, letting his lover know that he was and would always be there for him no matter what. He then turned to John and gave him a reassuring smile before clasping his hand on John's shoulder.

"Do what you can. That is all we ask of you," Hunter pontificated, hoping that he sounded strong and sure of himself.

"I will, Hunter, Shawn," John nodded his head and gave them a smile before blue shimmers encased him. Soon, the Rulers of Paradise were alone, both sighing in unison before turning to look at one another.

"He's strong. I hope he can save us before we fall."

"He is strong, but he is not our last hope. There are many of us, no matter how wrong and tarnished this world may be. There is still a fighting chance for us. We cannot despair yet when we still have so much more to gain."

Shawn knew that his lover was right, but he couldn't help but feel discouraged at the lack of faith and pureness the world had. It was disheartening and Shawn sometimes felt that they were fighting a losing battle. There were spurts of souls that came through, ready to give up everything to help save the world, but lately, they were lucky to get one or two to fight alongside them. Feeling a strong arm around him, the smaller man looked up and met the beautiful hazel eyes of his lover and immediately felt amity.

-x- -x- -x- -x- -x-

As John walked around a busy market place somewhere in Mexico, he could tell right away why Shawn and Hunter were so worried, so concerned with the state of their War. He could feel the anger and hate rolling off of the bodies of the humans who were pushing their way through the crowds, cursing and yelling at each other, some even resulting to pushing and fighting. There was no peace to be found amongst the angry souls, all consumed by their greed. There were many souls that needed to be saved, but as John made his way further and further down the street, he wondered if any of them _could _be saved.

And just as the thought came through, darkness overtook him, a spine chilling presence making its presence known. John wasn't human, so for him, it was easy to distinguish the difference between the humans and the supernatural. Overlooking the angry people and the stands full of fruits, vegetables, and everything in between, John was able to find the source of the darkness. The Evil that materialized before them – unnoticed by the people – was someone John hadn't been expecting, which was why he had a sudden intake of breath at the sight of him. He was tall and tan, with dark skulls marred along his protracted arms, which were adorned with muscle. He was wearing dark blue jeans, which hung to his hips beautifully. The black shirt he was wearing clung to his body, revealing tight muscle and exquisite abs. If his appearance wasn't enough to draw attention then the icy blue of his eyes definitely did the job. There was something cold about those eyes that instantly stuck with John.

As if feeling John's eyes, Randy Orton looked over, almost immediately locking eyes with the Good One. He cocked his head in curiosity, but soon smirked. He knew why John was there. John was there for the same reason Randy was – only their reasons were the exact opposite. Averting his gaze, Randy looked around at all the angry, feverish people who were causing tribulations all around. There were so many souls to choose from . . . so many to corrupt.

"Don't do it."

Randy immediately looked back over, his eyes coming to rest on John's, who hadn't looked away yet. He cocked his head to the side and stared questioningly at the man. Human were injudicious when it came to their bodies. They had no idea how strong their senses were which was why it was so easy for Good Ones and Evils to corrupt them. What humans didn't know was that their senses were so robust and resilient, they could pick up anything. Being lazy and completely incompetent, they were clueless to what they could truly hold, which was one of the many reasons why Randy knew it was John who was talking to him. Even from the great distance between them, Randy heard the man perfectly. Not only that, but Evils and Good Ones could make themselves visible to the eyes of humans if they wanted to. If not then they were like ghosts, walking among them without notice. Now was one of those times. While John was _there_, Randy wasn't. People walked by him without seeing him, without feeling his presence.

"Don't do what, Good One? Pick a soul? Corrupt a soul?" Randy questioned, the smirk never once leaving his face. It was quite amusing to him, the Good One telling him what to do.

"I'm saving you the trouble. I'll save whoever you corrupt, Randy Orton," John answered, narrowing his eyes.

"Oh, you know who I am?"

"Of course, I do. We all know who you are up there," John couldn't keep the level of disgust out of his voice. Anyone who tore through the souls like he did and entitle himself as _'The Viper'_, without a care in the world couldn't keep the attention off of himself. Randy Orton had been a hot topic for almost five hundred years now. Good Ones were warned of him, told to keep care around the Evil. He was dangerous.

"Well, that is no fair. I have no idea who you are."

"I am the one who will stop you if you even think about corrupting any of these souls. I think you and your kind have done enough of that lately."

"We have," Randy nodded, his voice taking a nameless tone while his gaze turned down, searching. John had honestly thought he had gotten somewhere with the Viper, but the second his eyes snapped back up, he realized that he was wrong. Slowly his appearance began to coagulate, his presence now known amongst the human who were so in their own world that they didn't even notice the Evil apparate before them in the bustling street. "But who wants Paradise when you can live in Hell on Earth?"

The disgust and revulsion of what Randy had just said was clearly penned on John's face, but the Viper didn't really seem to care. Chuckling and shaking his head, Randy turned from John and started down the active street, feeling for that one soul that would be corrupted. A lot of them were calling for him, but Randy knew that he only had enough strength for one more. He had been so concerned about not going back to the Underworld for fear of running back into Taker that Randy realized he didn't have enough energy to corrupt much more. After this next soul, Randy would have corrupted about nine, which wasn't his all-time best, but it would have to do. He would return to the Underworld and gather some more energy before coming back up and continuing his work.

He was on the hunt, John could clearly see that. As much as he had been warned and as dangerous as he knew the Viper was, John couldn't just sit back and allow a soul to be corrupted. It was with that thought in mind did John walk forward, pushing his way through the lively market street, his eyes locked on Randy. There was no way he was going to allow him out of his sight. Too much was on the line for that to happen. Ignoring the complaints and harsh words from the humans he brushed past, John picked up his pace, determined to keep the Viper from corrupted anyone there.

John was dead set on stopping Randy Orton at all costs. He was so fixed on preventing the Viper from corrupting, which was probably why he was so shocked when Randy started heading right for the very soul that had been calling out to him the most. That was when his assertiveness came into play. Growling in annoyance, John reached out – when he was close enough – and latched onto Randy's arm, jerking his attention from the soul right back to his. The reaction was almost instantaneous. Randy immediately wrenched himself free of John's grasp and turned on him, his icy blue eyes igniting in a tantalizing fire.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?" Randy demanded, quickly closing the distance between them.

"What the hell do you think?" John shot right back, not in the least bit intimidated. His fists were clenching and unclenching. "I'm not going to just sit back and watch as you corrupt _my_ soul. There's no way!"

"Excuse me?" Randy cocked his head to the side, his pale eyes narrowing into slits. "What do you mean _your_ soul? That girl is _mine_."

Silence overtook the two as they allowed each other's words to process. Neither of them – not in the hundreds of years the two had been alive for – had ever come across this type of conundrum. Even through all of the confusion and bewilderment, John and Randy couldn't help but still feel the anger bubbling over. It was that territorial instinct that overtook them, both ready to kill to keep the soul that is calling for them.

John was the first to speak, the first to come down from the sudden adrenaline rush. His voice was even, but laced in warning. "Regardless of who that soul belongs to . . . I cannot allow you to just corrupt her."

"Do you have any idea who you are talking to?" Randy's eyes narrowed even more. He couldn't believe this Good One actually thought he had a chance against him.

"I don't give a damn!" John snapped, taking a threatening step closer. He closed his eyes and took a slow breath, trying to calm himself down. The last thing any of them wanted was for a supernatural fight to ensue right there in a crowded street in Mexico. It wouldn't do well for either of them. When he opened his eyes, he was met with an icy stare. "I don't care who you are, _Viper_, but I won't . . . I will _not_ . . . stand and watch you destroy a life."

"What is your name, Good One?"

"What?"

"You heard me. I want to know the name of the Good One who honestly thinks he's got what it takes to beat me." Randy clarified, raising his head slightly in arrogance and in defiance.

John narrowed his own eyes, those sapphire orbs glaring hard at the cocky Evil who genuinely thought he was better. That wasn't going to happen. John was going to do everything in his power to make sure that Randy Orton remembered his name.

"John Cena."

Randy pursed his lips and nodded his head while his eyes scanned over the Good One in front of him. He had to admit, _John Cena_ was very attractive. He had short brown hair and a huge, muscular body that was much bigger than his own. He wore jeans and a gray T-shirt which made his stunning sapphire eyes glisten even more. No matter how attractive the man was, though, Randy wasn't about to let his soul get taken from him.

"Well, John Cena . . . that soul belongs to whoever takes it."

"This isn't a game," John expressed, surprise taking over his features. He couldn't believe Randy was actually issuing a challenge – so to speak – over the soul. "We aren't going to just fight over it to see who takes it."

"Then I guess you're just going to stand there while I take it." It was with that did the Viper turn on his heels and make a beeline right for the pretty woman who was shopping at one of the stands.

She had beautiful long, black hair. Her dark eyes scanned over the various fruits that were presented in front of her, all the while thinking of dishes to serve for her family reunion that would be taking place in only a few short days. As much as she loved her family, Melina Perez did not want to spend her only weekend surrounded by family she barely even knew. That just wasn't her idea of a good time. To appease her mother, though, Melina had agreed to go. Sighing, Melina looked away from the innumerable amounts of fruit and rubbed her tired eyes. Who was she kidded? The only thing that was on her mind was her boyfriend, John Morrison. She was heartbroken to tell him that she wasn't able to spend time with him that weekend, especially after she promised him that she would do everything in her power to see him more. Her job was tiresome, so most of the time Melina just wanted to relax at her apartment. John had been respectable and patient with her, but even Melina could see that he was growing irascible.

Looking up from her inward quarrel, Melina was shocked to find that the man behind the stand was . . . frozen . . . his hand was reaching for a glass that was on the end of the counter, but he just wasn't moving anymore. His mouth was open partly, like he was getting ready to say something, but nothing was coming out. Perplexed, the young woman turned to the right and gasped, a hand flying to her mouth as she took in the market place around her. Everything was motionless, the people who were pushing and shoving were still, the venders behind just as still as the customers. It was as though time froze . . . yet she was still moving. Whatever happened hadn't affected her in the least. She was still moving and thinking and breathing. _What was going on?_

Melina turned her attention to the man across the stand from her, the vender who was reaching for the glass. She took a cautious step forward, reaching over and slowly waving her hand in front of his face, hoping that by doing that simple action, it would snap him out of whatever had happened.

"Sir . . . hello . . . are you still there?" Melina called her voice uncertain and shaky. Her fears intensified when nothing happened. The man remained still, nothing changing at all in his appearance. She would have started panicking even more, but movement was caught in her peripheral vision. Spinning around, Melina once against gasped, but this time in amazement.

The man walking towards her was the very definition of everything she had ever wanted in man, but was long since forgotten when reality set in. No one could possibly hold every single characteristic she possessed. It was just unattainable. But this man . . . this _god_ . . . Melina couldn't look away from the paleness of his eyes, the sway of his body as he strolled closer and closer to her. She could feel her heart racing with each step he took, her body shaking with the sudden need to wrap her arms around him. Melina couldn't think as he took his last steps towards her, the slow notorious smirk sliding across his face, his eyes flashing with malice.

Before Melina could even think to say something, the man reached forward and gently wrapped his slender fingers around her small arm, pulling her over towards him. She opened her mouth to speak, but gasped when his soft, warm lips pressed against hers, immediately sending her into ecstasy. Getting into the kiss, Melina moaned into the man's warm mouth, her eyes rolling shut as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him that much closer to her, desperate to get more of the man as possible. It was over sooner than she expected, though. The man smirked into the kiss as he pulled away, loving the deplorable whimper that evaded from her swollen lips.

"What do you want?" Randy asked, his voice low as he lowered his head again, lifting Melina's chin up some so he could get better access to her neck. His lips barely kissed her skin, which made her whimper with anticipation.

"You . . . God, I want you!"

"No!"

At the same time, Melina and Randy both turned and looked at the source of the voice. Unbeknownst to them, John had moved closer to him. He had a look of shock on his face as he closed the distance between them. He put a hand on Melina's shoulder and gently pushed her back, putting even more detachment between Randy and the young woman who had no idea what she was falling into.

"What the hell are you doing, Randy?" John demanded, putting himself between the two.

"What does it look like?"

"Are you kidding me! You are flirting to get her soul?" John scoffed, unable to actually put into words what he was seeing. It was indescribable and John couldn't believe Melina was actually eating it all up. Knowing that he had to get into action, John turned his attention to the confused woman. "Melina, don't listen to this man. He's not a good person."

"What are you talking about? He loves me . . ." Melina said slowly, looking more confused than ever. She kept glancing from the Evil back to John, though her eyes came to rest of the Viper. ". . . Don't you love me?"

"Of course I love you, Melly."

"Stop lying to her!" John put his hands on Melina's shoulders, bringing her attention back to him. "I know you are confused right now, but the way you are going, the path you are taking with your boyfriend, it's only going to end in destruction."

_That_ seemed to get her thoughts from the gutter. Her eyes seemed to come out of their haze as she processed John's words. "What are you talking about? What's going on, how do you know me and my boyfriend?"

"I'm here to help you, Melina. Your family is the most important thing going for you right now. What you have with John Morrison is nice, but he doesn't love you, not like you think he does. You'll soon discover this, but you won't leave him," John explained his voice gentle and kind. He let go of her shoulders and took her hands instead. He could feel Randy staring, but he did nothing to stop John. "Don't let him lead you astray. You have so much going for you. Family is a vital part of your life. You never know when you'll lose it all."

Melina slowly nodded her head. Though her thoughts were still a jumble of confusion, a part of her realized the truth in his words. When she looked into John's eyes, she could see the sincerity in his words, the care in his actions, but when she looked over at Randy, though . . . it was as though she was at war with herself and her emotions. Looking at the man, her eyes seemed to glaze over, her sudden _need_ to have him almost too much for the young woman to control on her own. She _wanted_ him and it killed her knowing she couldn't.

"Melina," John's voice pulled her out of her thoughts. When she turned to look at him, she relaxed some. "Do you know what you have to do?"

"Yes . . ." Melina whispered, nodding her head once more.

"What do you want?" John and Melina both turned and looked at Randy, who had yet to move from where he stood. His eyes were locked on Melina, doing his best to get into her head, to figure out what she truly _wanted_ in life . . . so he could crush it. He cocked his head to the side and gave her a seductive smile, one she immediately took in. "Who are they to tell you what to do, to control you? Melina, you are a grown woman. Don't let them walk over you like you are nothing. Take a stand for yourself. Do you want to crawl back to them? Do you want to leave what you have here to appease them?"

"No . . ."

Randy took a step closer, his gaze softening some, which surprised John immensely. He didn't think someone like Randy could possess a gentle quality. His eyes racked over Melina's body obviously, loving the look of lust that traversed over her face. "Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you."

"You . . . I want you . . ." Melina whined, releasing John's hands and stepped away from him, moving closer to Randy, who allowed her to grab him, to smother herself against him.

Deep down John knew that he was defeated. The look in the young woman's eyes, the way she melted into the Evil, her innocent mind too immature to make the right decisions. He knew he lost when Randy closed his eyes and leaned his head back, as though enjoying something pleasurable. John knew that he was welcoming in her energy.

Slowly, as though in a movie, the area shifted. The still citizens of the market in Mexico came to life again, going on as though nothing happened. Melina was right there with them. After each save/corruption, the soul's mind was wiped clean of the events that had just transpired. Melina had no idea what had just happened to her, she had no idea that her soul was now doomed.

John and Randy were invisible to them all now, both watching the chaos that was happening around them. Finally, unable to take it any longer, John turned to the Viper. He didn't look angry, only curious and eager to know what had just happened. Randy seemed to gather this before John said anything, which was why he spoke first.

"I am _Desire_. I can become anything they want me to be and more. I'm their hopes and their dreams. I become known and they immediately latch onto me, giving themselves up for just a second of that joy and revelation that comes with it."


	2. The Smallest of Connections

_Thanks to __**CenaOrtonJames23**__, __**FANSOFJOLINASPUFFY**__, __**GreenWild**__, __**GreenDiamond**__, __**Addicted to Cenaton**__, __**xxxRKOEnigmaxxx**__, __**Lovely Evanescence**__, __**3merald princ3ss**__, __**Bravada**__, __**fallsangel06**__, __**RatedRGirl83**__, and __**Pixy Polly**__ for your amazing reviews! _

_ I'm really sorry for this story taking so long to get out. It's been like forever and for that, I hope you all forgive me. School has been taking a lot of my time, as have work. Please stick with me and let me know what you think!_

_~ Shandy777_

_**-x- -x- -x- -x- -x- -x- -x- -x- -x- -x-**_

~ Chapter 2 – The Smallest of Connections ~

He couldn't think … not after what he had just witnessed. He couldn't rationalize how any of the humans could say yes to the darkness, to destroy their entire future for something like _Desire_. Nothing made any sense, though … that was the beauty of the world and all of its choices. Nothing had to make sense for the world to keep turning. After witnessing what the Evil – _the_ Evil – did to Melina Perez, it was only a matter of time before she fell. It had been weeks, months since the heinous act, yet it was still so fresh in John Cena's mind to the point where it was all he could think about when he wasn't all over the world, saving the souls that he could. The way Melina had so easily fallen for his games; the way _Desire_ pulled her in, promising everything, but giving nothing … the way his lips pressed softly, yet firmly, against hers …

Shaking his head, John pushed _those_ thoughts out of his head, refusing to get caught up in the sinful looks of _the_ Evil – Randy Orton. Sinful looks … the Good One snorted and shook his head again, allowing the humourous smile to cross his face as he made his way to the castle-like structure. He really had been thinking too much about _Desire_. The last thing he needed was to get distracted, though. There were more pressing matters to take care of then daydreaming about the Evil … like why an Evil and a Good One were attracted to the same soul. It was something – among over things – that was constantly fresh in his head. A part of him wanted to go straight to Hunter and Shawn and tell them what had happened, but the other part didn't want to. He couldn't explain it, but there was something … personal … about the entire thing. There was just something about that Evil that was different from the others and John was set on finding out just what that difference was.

Pushing open the great white doors, John stepped inside and was greeted with a wonderful sight. All around him, Good Ones were walking around talking amongst themselves, while others, like the greatest Good One the world had ever seen – Adam Copeland – was standing in the corner, soaking up the energy of a fresh soul that he had just saved. A part of John envied Adam. He was smart, successful, and brilliant at what he did, and seemed to always have a positive thing to say. He was a great Good One and an even better friend. Envy was a sin, though, and, while they all struggled to remain pure and true, it was always hard not to fall for them. Unlike most humans, who were so easily tainted with the evil, Good Ones were much stronger, able to know when the attack was coming and put up the right defenses to save themselves. John smiled and waved when Adam opened his eyes and saw him. No matter how great Adam Copeland was as a Good One, he was an even better friend, and that was enough to make John happy for him.

"John," His thoughts were pulled away by the sound of a very familiar voice. He turned to said voice and smiled at Shawn. "How are you doing?"

"I'm doing alright, Shawn," John replied, falling into step with Shawn as he started walking down a hallway, moving to a more secluded area away from the other Good Ones so they could talk in privacy. "How are you?"

"I've actually been a bit worried about you," Shawn confessed, looking at John with a look full of worry and concern.

"What do you mean? I'm fine …"

"I'm sure you are," Shawn said immediately, nodding his head and waving his hand in dismissal. He looked almost embarrassed to even have thought such a thing to begin with. "Things have been very stressful lately, as you know. I guess I'm just getting paranoid."

"Shawn," John put a hand on Shawn's shoulder, stopping him. When he finally looked back at John, John could tell that he had been indeed worried. The lines on his face were pronounced and deep. His eyes looked tired and worn. "You look horrible. Have you not been resting?"

"There will be plenty of time to rest later," Shawn said, shaking his head. "Right now we need to …"

John would have nothing of it, though. He waved his hand, cutting off whatever it was that Shawn was getting ready to say and put an arm around him as they continued walking down the hallway, taking a left at the next crossroad. "Right now _you_ need to go rest. I know you are worried and stressed about the future of Earth, but Shawn, if you don't relax and get the proper rest you need then you will be of no help to the world. Surely you understand that."

And he did. As much as he hated it, Shawn knew that John was telling the truth. Hunter, his lover, had been telling him the exact same thing, too. It was just so hard to think about his well-being when there was just so much to think about when it came to the safety of the world. Not only was the world in jeopardy, but so was the existence of Good Ones. If the world fell into sin then their souls would burn. In that case, they would be unable to save them, which meant that there would be no use for Good Ones. Evil will take over, and the world would go into utter chaos. The world would destroy itself. How could anyone not worry over something like that?

"I do," Shawn sighed. He looked at John and gave him a small smile. "I will rest for a while."

"Good," John smiled back, squeezing Shawn's shoulder before letting him go. He started to walk backwards to where they just came from. "I have more souls to save. I'll check on you later." And with that, John's body was surrounded by blue shimmers before disappearing altogether.

**-x- -x- -x- -x- -x-**

There was always a down side by being _the_ center of attention, but there was also a plus side and right now, as Randy Orton strolled down an endless corridor deep inside of the Underworld, he loved the attention he was receiving from the other Evils around. As he passed by, the talking slowly ceased to a stop, all eyes followed him as he made his way past them, his head tilted up defiantly. That was the only upside to being the one everyone talked about, the one everyone tried to mirror themselves after. They only saw what he presented, not what was really underneath. A part of Randy wanted it that way, though. He didn't want them staring at him out of pity and he definitely didn't want them to resent him, because he wasn't fond of the half Ruler of the Underworld's touching. He was safe now, though. Taker never tried anything when there was a crowd … most of the time, anyway. Mostly the confrontations and little sneak attacks occurred when he was alone.

So he would stay in the populated area, moving with the other Evils as they went around, talking to others as they waited for more energy to seep into their bodies. It was with this in mind did Randy stay, looking for one person in particular – his brother, Cody. The similarities between them were quite different – Cody taking after their mother while Randy took after their father – but there was no mistaking their resemblance. Both had brilliant blue eyes that seemed to sparkle in the darkest places. They had dark hair and perfect skin. Though Cody took after their mother – his small frame, his kinder, gentler side – he had his father's courage and determination. Randy, on the other hand, was much bigger and stronger built. His skin was darker, probably due to all of the long hours spent outside. Regardless of the differences, however, they were family and they loved each other more than anything.

Randy slowly walked around the groups of people, trying his hardest to find his brother, only he couldn't. Sighing, Orton figured that he was still on Earth collecting the damned souls. Evil was winning; there would be a lot of souls. Maybe he could meet him somewhere? Track his essence and watch him take down another soul? Randy was too busy planning – leaning back against the rocky wall – he didn't even notice the other Evils dissipate until he was the only one there. Of course, when he did notice, he could already feel the temperature drop.

"Fuck," Randy growled, hating each and every Evil that left without giving him a heads up. He pushed himself off the wall and started down the hallway, his pace quickening with each step he took. There was no way he'd get stuck in another compromising position again. Just the thought of Taker putting his hands on him, touching him, kissing him … it made him want to gag, throw up then die.

He was practically jogging to get out of the area in time. His feet were pounding into the ground as he rushed on and, he didn't know if it was his panicked mind playing tricks on him, but he was almost certain he heard the sound of a chuckle softly vibrating off the walls. Glancing back behind him, just to make sure that Taker wasn't right there on his trail, Randy turned the corner, only to come to a halt when he almost walked right into the very man he was running from. His breath caught in his throat and he had to do all that he could to not turn around and run in the direction he just came. Deep down, though, Randy knew that Taker could – and _would_ – catch him if he ever decided to run. It would be a futile attempt of an escape. Instead, Randy lowered his head and slowly took a step back, trying to put some distance between the half Ruler of the Underworld and himself. That wasn't in his favour, though. Taker walked forward, not stopping until he had Randy backed into the nearest wall … just how he liked him – trapped and squirming. The half Ruler of the Underworld could hear the thunderous beats of Randy's heart; he could hear his shaky breath as it quietly escape from his mouth in quick pants. It was like music to his ears. Never had he been so turned on before in all the centuries he cursed the world.

"Where were you running off to?" Taker purred, his voice hinting what Randy hoped he wouldn't. He chuckled darkly when Randy flinched as his cold fingertips brushed against Orton's jaw line, his body almost pressed against the smaller Evil … _his_ Evil.

"I … I was going to collect more souls s-so I wouldn't hear you bitch ..." Randy answered, trying his hardest to remain his cocky, arrogant self. That was a hard task to accomplish when all he wanted to do was break away from Taker and take off down the hallway, putting as much distance between them as possible. He was trapped between a wall and a hard place, though.

"You've collected enough for today," Taker retorted, his free hand running down the length of Randy's arm, loving how easy it was to make Orton shiver in utter fear and repulse. At least he knew where he stood when it came to it all. No matter how great of an Evil he was, he was still beneath Taker. He was still _his_ to do with what he will. He could destroy Randy right then and there if he wanted to; make him bend to his every desire if he demanded it. Orton couldn't refuse him or else he'd be in a world of hurt. "Why don't you come with me … I want to show you something …"

Opening his mouth to speak, Randy was quickly shut down when Taker wrapped an arm around him and led him down the hallway, the grip he had was gentle, but at the same time, spoke volumes – _fight me and I'll teach you whose in control here_. So, it was with that haunting thought in mind, did Randy allow Taker to lead him down the hallway, the torches lighting their way as the half Ruler of the Underworld directed Orton to the main area, a place that instantly brought chills and goosebumps to flair along The Viper's skin – the throne room. Orton had no idea why the place made him jumpy and edgy, had no idea why the place made him want to shimmer and get as far away from the place as possible. There was just something about it that sent him unease.

What caught his attention, though, was when he looked upon the thrones and noticed something very peculiar … sitting directly between the two great thrones … was another throne …

"Do you like it?" Taker asked when he caught Orton staring in wonder at the additional throne. He couldn't help but allow the grin to spread across his face – which was very uncharacteristic of him, to say the least. What could he say, though? Randy Orton had a way of bringing that side out of him even when he didn't want it. That was one of the many things that attracted him to the Evil; that was one of the many things that Taker found that would be perfect for the future plans.

"Why are there three thrones?" Randy quietly asked, looking from Taker's throne to the other half Ruler of the Underworld's throne to the slightly smaller throne that sat in the very middle. The unease he had been feeling was slowly intensifying the longer he ogled the display.

Taker released his hold on Randy and slowly started to pace around the room, his hands coming to rest behind his back, clasping them as he turned his gaze to the very scene Orton couldn't take his eyes off of. The future plans he and his dark lover had were slowly starting to unfold and it was only going to be a matter of time before those schemes and plots were publicized. Shifting his gaze from the thrones back to his Evil, Taker slowly walked towards Orton, quickly gaining his attention. Randy immediately started to back away, but had an instantaneous gasp when Taker lurched forward with unearthly speed, grabbing his forearm, and holding on tight, expressing his true power and strength as he pulled The Viper closer, those feelings of an intense orgasmic rush filling him.

"Things are about to change, Randy," He drawled slowly, his eyes raking over Orton's body. The Evil's weakness towards him was succulent. Reaching forward, Taker slowly drew his hand down the side of his face, coming to rest on his neck, where his thumb slowly started to caress his pulse, as well as to monitor the rapid beats of Orton's heart. "Whether you are ready for them or not – prepare."

"Whether _I'm _ready? What the hell are you talking about?" Randy questioned his voice shaky and unsteady as he looked up into the cold eyes of Taker, his mouth slightly open in confusion and in fear. The unease was only growing, only escalating with each passing second. What part did _he_ play in all of it? What was _it_?

"Like it or not, Randal, you're-" Taker started, but was caught off guard when another presence started to make itself known. Sensing it, Randy turned his attention away from the half Ruler of the Underworld and focused on the place where the presence was coming in, the black shimmers encircling a specific place before Cody Rhodes stepped out. Taker could feel his Evil's heart slowing down some, as though he were happy that he was finally not alone. Growling, his grip tightening a bit, showing his territorial side, Taker glared at the newcomer, the growth of hate for the kid slowly starting to increase with each passing millisecond. "What are you doing here, Rhodes? We're busy."

"I was summoned here," Cody replied. Even though his heart was racing the more and more Taker glared his way, he held his ground, and even managed to speak without his voice shaking. He raised his head some as he looked over to Randy – the man who called for him, practically screaming for him in his head.

Taker also turned his head to look at the Evil in his grasp, those cold, dead eyes of his searching Randy's very soul. He knew when he first brought Randy from the dead that Cody Rhodes was going to be a very big presence in Randy's life and was even keen on working with him, since Orton was going to be the final piece in the puzzle, but now … now Taker was ready to kill and wipe the Underworld of the existence known as Cody Rhodes. All he was … was a distraction. Randy was the eldest, which meant his entire attention was mostly on his younger brother. That wasn't going to work well with the future plans. Taking a deep breath – mostly to calm down before he did something not very nice to the intruding Evil – Taker relinquished some of his hold on Randy, but made sure to hang onto some part of The Viper. He lived up to his name. If there was a way out, he'd strike like a snake and go right for it, taking everyone and everything out of the picture to get to it.

"Did you summon him?"

"I … uh," Randy quickly looked at Cody before turning his pale gaze back to Taker, clearing his throat before shrugging his shoulders. The last thing he wanted was to look weak in front of his brother, to show him how much Taker really and truly affected him. "I called him before you showed me … this …"

"I see," Taker slowly nodded his head, releasing the grip he had on the future before taking a few steps back, his gaze boring into Randy's. "Then you better not keep him waiting. I'm sure whatever you summoned him for is important."

The Viper didn't move an inch for a moment, his eyes locked on the half Ruler of the Underworld, just waiting for him to lurch forward and do something. When he didn't, though, Randy slowly moved closer to his brother, his pale gaze not once leaving the man that stalked him night and day. Reaching out, Orton grabbed a hold of his brother's arm and shimmered them both out of the Underworld, out and away from Taker, who closed his eyes and took a deep breath, a low, malevolent growl evading from deep within his throat.

Every time he got closer, something immediately got in the way – and that _something_ always seemed to be Cody Rhodes. Well, it seems as though Cody Rhodes was going to have a rude awakening if he thought he could get away with the game he was playing, that was for sure.

**-x- -x- -x- -x- -x-**

"What do you want me to do, Cody, huh!" Randy shouted, pacing back and forth in a garden in Ireland. Even though he was trying to keep a cool head, he couldn't help but react to everything Cody was saying – and it wasn't in a positive way, either.

"I don't know! But you can't keep doing this! You can't get alone with him, because you know what he's going to keep doing to you! You need to go hide or something!" The fights the two had were endless when it came to the topic of The Viper and The Undertaker.

"Where do you want me to go?" Throwing his hands up in the air, Randy laughed without humour as he turned on his little brother, his pale eyes a blazing fire. "It doesn't matter where I go, Cody, because he'll find me! _He always finds me_!"

Carping, Cody shook his head and plopped down on the ground right where he stood, crossing his arms as he glared at the blossoming flowers that were before him, their beauty slowly fading until the floras started to shrivel. He couldn't help it, though. He was inundating in guilt and sorrow that it was only a natural reaction for him as an Evil to kill whatever was in his path, and that – unfortunately – had to be the petunias before him. How could he not? For the past five hundred years, Cody Rhodes had been subjected to watch as the half Ruler of the Underworld harassed and stalked his brother. He watched as the Ruler practically drew his brother closer and closer to his breaking point, though he tried to be strong whenever Cody was around. It didn't really matter – Cody could tell what Taker's harassment was doing to his health. He didn't know what Taker was planning, but that sickening feeling he had was only growing stronger and stronger the more the half Ruler of the Underworld persisted.

_Pacing back and forth in front of the grave, Cody Rhodes had absolutely no idea what he was expecting to happen. A part of him thought that his brother would simply shoot out of the grave like some unnatural creature; the other part thought he would just magically appear beside him, merely staring at his grave in complete shock while Cody explained to his brother what had happened, why he died, and why he was standing beside him. None of that happened, though, and Rhodes was left to wonderful what exactly would happen and when._

_ He was growing antsy just waiting, his pacing continuing until he felt a comforting presence beside him. Shortly after, the half Ruler of the Underworld – Cody's new home and master – stood before him, his eyes locked on the fresh grave. He gave no indication that he knew that Rhodes was standing right there, but Cody was smart enough to keep his mouth shut, because deep down, he knew that Taker was well-aware of his attendance. And it soon paid off. A few minutes passed before Taker finally turned his cold gaze to the youngest brother, those eyes studying him, trying to read and sense sincerity._

_ "Are you sure you want to do this?" He finally drawled, that voice sending shills straight through Cody's body._

_ "I …" Cody hesitated, looking down at the grave that held his dead brother – a brother that he killed. The man's life was cut short and it was because of him. "I'm sure."_

_ Shaking his head, The Undertaker – as he instructed Cody to call him – took a step forward, his blank eyes boring into Rhodes', who immediately looked nervous, but – shockingly – stood his ground. "This is … permanent. There is no changing the rules. Once I've raised him … he will be subjected to bringing souls down to the Underworld. Do you understand that?"_

_ The consequences were nothing compared to what Cody had been doing to himself ever since his brother's death. To be quite honest, Rhodes didn't care. The only thing he did care about was getting his brother back, to see him smile, to hear him laugh. He just wanted his best friend back._

_ "I understand."_

_ "He will have to deal with all that comes his way. Besides," The Undertaker drawled, turning his gaze back upon the grave, a fog slowly starting to appear around them. "I am quite … curious … as to how this is going to play out. I will be keeping a close eye on him."_

_ "Watch him, that's fine, I don't care. I just want him back. I did this to him and I want to make this all right. I took his life – I want to give it back," Cody explained, taking a step forward, his fingers running over the name that was inscribed in the stone._

_**Randal Keith Orton**_

_**April 1, 1580 – November 13, 1611**_

_**Beloved Son, Loving Fiancé, Adoring Brother**_

_ "I will once again remind you how permanent this is, Cody Rhodes," Taker repeated, his voice eerie in the darkness that was around them, bringing the hairs on Cody's arms to stand straight up. "There is no going back, there are no negotiations. Once I raise him, he belongs to me."_

_ "I understand the circumstances, now bring him back."_

"… and furthermore, if I had the ability to get away from the sick son-of-a-bitch, don't you think I would have done so by now! It's not like I actually _enjoy_ getting raped with his hands, Cody! I don't like him showing me shit and catching me alone! I don't like him grabbing me and violating me every single fucking time I go down to the Underworld to get energy!" Randy expressed, practically burning a hole in the ground from all of his pacing, but he didn't even discern the trail he created when he finally looked over to his brother, finally noticing that he wasn't even listening. "And I'm talking to my fucking self."

"No, I'm listening, I just ..." Cody closed his eyes and shook his head for a moment, shaking those thoughts of _that_ life-changing night out of his head before he realized something. The last thing he wanted was Randy to know about what had happened. Just thinking about the way Randy would look at him, the way his brother would speak to him … it was just something he didn't even want to think about. "I just don't want you to get hurt. Something isn't right and I don't like the way things are going."

"You're telling me," Randy snorted, finally coming to a stop. He put his hands on his hips and peered down at his brother, who was still seated on the ground. After a few steps forward, Randy plopped down on the ground before him, leaning closer. "So, I have something to tell you."

"What?"

"When I was in some market street in Mexico, there was this Good One …" Trailing off, Orton cocked his head to the side as he recalled how attractive this Good One was. He could easily recall seeing the dimples, the thick muscles that adorned his body. He could remember the beautiful blue in his eyes, the way they twinkled whenever the light touched them the right way. He then evoked the connection the two shared, the same soul that was calling the Evil and Good One together.

Narrowing his eyes some, Cody leaned forward, as well, waiting patiently for his brother to continue on. "What Good One?"

"His name is John."

"John? He told you his name?"

"I asked for it."

"Randy, I swear, if you start fucking this Good One-" Cody started, his crystal-like eyes glowing.

Rolling his eyes, Randy shook his head impatiently, waving off Cody's threat. "Shut the fuck up, Cody. We were going after the same soul."

"You can't …" Cody started off strong, but the second his brother said those words, the younger brother trailed off, his mind quickly going a million miles a minute as he tried to discern what Randy had just said. What he was describing was impossible … "What are you talking about?"

"I know it sounds crazy," Randy said, refocusing his gaze back down to the floor, his fingers grazing over the beautiful green grass. "I feel crazy, but it's true. We both fought over her soul, trying to get her on our side. I eventually won, but … I've never heard of that happening before, Cody."

"Yeah, neither have I," Cody studied his brother for a moment, seeing the confusion and worry in his eyes over the soul and the Good One. He wished he had answers for the man, but he had nothing. The only one who might have the answers was the half Ruler of the Underworld, and that was simply not an option. The only way Randy Orton would go to that _demon_ for help would be when he was on the verge of death, and even then, it was highly doubtful he'd be willing. "What are you going to do?"

"I have no idea. A part of me wants to go find this Good One and demand some answers from him. I mean, it's obvious that they are only doing that, because they know how I am and they know how good I am at my job. They want to get in my head and distract me from taking more souls since they're losing."

"That could be the reason."

"Could? Codes, it _has_ to be the reason. This John Cena character is a very good actor and they are using him to distract me," Biting his bottom lip, Randy crossed his arms and glowered at the ground, trying to figure out a reasonable explanation. The one he gave sounded good, but questionable. What else could be the reason?

"Oh, no," Quickly scrambling to a position on his knees, the younger brother immediately put his finger up, intend on shooting down whatever idea it was that was formulating in his brother's head. "You cannot be serious, Randy. You're not doing it!"

"What? You don't even know what I'm about to do!" Randy immediately replied defensively, leaning back in mock shock.

"Don't get cute with me here, Orton," Cody narrowed his eyes as he got to his feet. He took his brother's roll from earlier and started to pace, his feet kicking up dust as he went on his lecture. "The last thing in the world you should be doing is causing trouble! If you go looking for the shit – and by looking, I mean the Good One – then you'll have shit raining down on you, because they are protective bitches. They'll watch each other's back like no man's business. Besides, you-"

He could no longer feel his brother's presence anymore, which meant only one thing … Randy Orton, was already gone.

"Oh, you bitch," Cody didn't even bother turning around, because he knew he would snap and shrivel yet another patch of flowers. He only hoped, as he made his way through a path that was surrounded by flowers and vines of grapes, that his brother knew when to stop, because when trouble was about, Randy Orton attracted it like bees to honey.

**-x- -x- -x- -x- -x-**

He didn't know why he did it, but when he found himself standing in a crowded street in Paris, France, Randy just found that he was in a fit of rage. Maybe it had something to do with all of the stuff the half Ruler of the Underworld was putting him through, pressuring and stressing him to the point of exhaustion and sheer paranoia, either way, Randy Orton didn't like it and he was intent on it coming to an end. He needed to regain control over the situation – any situation! With that control in mind, The Viper made his way through the crowded streets, looking for the Good One that had been on his mind since the other day, the one that was trying to steal his soul … the one with the dimples and the beautiful blue eyes …

Snarling in annoyance, Randy examined the entire city as he stormed down the bustling streets, knowing deep down that that particular Good One was there. It was only a matter of where. And his intuition paid off, too, because, when The Viper rounded the corner, he could feel the joy and pureness that only a Good One could possess. The targeted man finally turned around when he, too, caught the scent of the tainted and hate-filled Evil. Both men didn't move at all for a moment, but glared and scowled at each other.

"What are you doing here?" John Cena finally asked, dissipating from view of the humans walking around them. He took slow, cautious steps towards the Evil, who didn't move an inch as he drew closer. His curiosity always got the better of him and that, half of the time, was Cena's downfall.

"I had to see you," Randy replied, watching the Good One's every move. He noted the eyebrow raise and the slowness after those five words were spoken. Good. He was making Cena uncomfortable. Before John could say anything – because the look of shock on his face spoke enough to say that he was going to explode with questions – Randy raised his head defiantly and spoke first. "I know what you're doing. The soul that was 'drawn' to the both of us – your little game isn't going to work, because I know the truth," Once again, Cena opened his mouth, but Randy put a hand up, shutting down whatever nonsense that was about to pour through. "We're going to get one thing straight here then we aren't going to see or speak to each other again – _I _am _Desire_. I am more powerful than you. Just because your fucking angels aren't doing their jobs properly doesn't mean you and your kind get to change the rules of the game."

His head was now spinning as he listened to the Evil and the accusations that were flying through his lips. Cena had no idea what to make of it, but the longer the Evil spoke, the more agitated he got, and the more he wanted to do anything and everything in his power to shut the damn fool up! He wasn't a violent person, but the more Cena listened, the more he wanted to get rough with The Viper – and that was uncharacteristic of him. Closing the gap between them – that simple action immediately catching the attention of Randy, who went silent seconds afterwards – John glared into the Evil's eyes, his sapphire orbs burning bright with a fire.

"Who in the hell do you think you are?" John demanded, poking Orton in the chest with his finger. The contact made the Evil take a step back, but that didn't stop Cena, especially with the adrenaline rushing through his veins. Taking a step forwards the Good One continued on, not even noticing the fact that their essences were tangling together. "Let _me_ tell _you_ something, Evil. Do _not_ come here and interrupt my saving of a soul to accuse me of stealing one! Who do you think you are! Unlike you, I am not evil and I do not steal! Secondly, I have no idea what you're even talking about!"

"Oh, really," Randy snorted and shook his head, his own finger jabbing in the Good One's chest as he pushed him back. "So you're not aware of the little act you put on yesterday about that soul calling to you? You're not aware of the miserable sports you have on your own side who would just love to see me fail?"

"What are you accusing me of here, Randy?"

"You're a fraud! You're a fake, a phony, a liar. You weren't connected to that soul, just like you aren't connected to that soul over there," Randy emphasized by grabbing John's chin and turning his head in the direction of a beautiful young woman who was sitting by a fountain, talking on her cell-phone.

Normally, Cena would have resulted to violence at this point. He wasn't a big fan of it, but when times called for desperate measures, when his back was against the wall and his front was in pending danger, sometimes he just had no choice but to fight. But this time … he could feel the anger rising, his blood boiling at the touch of the Evil … he could also feel _that_ soul screaming out for him – the very soul Orton was referring to.

He turned his sapphire gaze back to The Viper, allowing the shocked look on his face speak since his words wouldn't. The Evil seemed to process the silent exchange and, after the shock wore off his own face, he narrowed his eyes and pushed the Good One away.

"There you go again!"

"I'm not lying, Orton!" John snapped, his fists clenching at his sides. "I have no fucking idea what the fuck's going on, but clearly this isn't a coincidence! We share a connection."

"We share nothing!" Randy barked back, his icy orbs blazing. "And what kind of a Good One are you! Foul language doesn't suit you well."

"Yeah, well, I guess that's what happens when you associate and hang around a fucking Evil for so long!" John stomped forward, once again not noticing how his blue shimmers intertwined with the black and red shimmers that were emanating from The Viper. "I'm being exposed to tainted, disgusting energy!"

"I will kill you, you son-of-a-bitch, you have no idea!" Randy yelled, he, himself, stepping forward, their bodies so close, it was a wonder they didn't notice at first. All Randy was thinking about was wrapping his thin fingers around Cena's neck and squeezing until the Good One was blue in the face. And that was just him. There was no telling what Cena was thinking and imaging.

"Oh, fuck off!"

The actions that happened directly after was an effect of the two very different energies coming together, incorporating, and creating a very rash, very congenial feeling to slam into the two men, catching them off guard and immediately springing them to life. The Good One grabbed the Evil by the shirt and jerked him forward, their lips slamming together in a heated, voracious kiss.


	3. Intertwined

_ Thanks to __**CenaRKO1986**__, __**FANSOFJOLINASPUFFY**__, __**SMango**__, __**Unleashed From Within**__, __**Prima-Donna2002**__, __**ICan-handle**__, __**FansofCenaton**__, __**Bravada**__, __**3merald princ3ss**__, __**DARKDAUGHTERS18**__, __**Pixy Polly**__, __**appolo1214**__, and __**Tinkrbell225**__ for these wonderful reviews! These are the reviews that keep me going, you all have no idea!_

_ Once again, I'm so sorry for this super late updated! You have no idea how busy I've been with all of my coursework. It's been insane. Thankfully, though, I'm out of school, which means these chapters will be coming out a bit faster. I do enjoy these chapters to be long, which is one of the many reasons why it's taking so long for them to come out. I also have other stories to work on, so I'm coming back and forth. But anyways – yeah, these will be coming out more! Thanks to those who have stuck with me! You guys are so brilliant!_

_~ Shandy777_

_**-x- -x- -x- -x- -x- -x- -x- -x- -x- -x-**_

~ Chapter 3 – Intertwined ~

He had no idea what was going on, what was driving him to slam the Evil against the wall and assault his lips with his own, but at that particular moment, affable sensations were surging through his veins, clouding his judgment. At that moment, nothing in the world could have stopped the Good One from devouring the man before him. There was just something about the taste of Randy Orton's skin – variegated with the propelling adrenaline that was filling his veins – that thwarted his inner thoughts from blaring at how stupid a move John Cena was making. Strong arms wrapped tightly around the Evil, John couldn't help but allow the growl from emanating from deep within his throat at just how impeccable Orton tasted, how seamless their tongues battled together in a never ending war as John pinned Randy against the brick wall, his hands crawling under the man's shirt, running his fingers up and down the flawless skin. A low groan seeped through Randy's lips, but that did nothing to relinquish the firm hold Cena had on the Evil.

The kiss was – for lack of a better word – heavenly as Orton's tongue danced along with Cena's, his arms wrapping around the Good One's neck, locking the man in place. His heart was excelling the normal rate of any human and, as much as he never wanted the kiss to end, there was just something that was on his mind, something that would most definitely continue to nag at him until he finally gave in and asked the question he desperately needed an answer to before his emotions and sensations could take complete control, inhibiting him from stopping when things got too far. Unwinding his arms from around the Good One's neck, Randy shoved the big man away from him. A look of surprise flitted across John's face, but the Evil ignored it. "What are we doing here, Cena? What is this?"

Taking a moment to collect his rapid heartbeat, Cena ran a hand over his short brown hair, his sapphire eyes studying the Evil before him. An unorthodox feeling suddenly crept upon him, startling him slightly since he had never felt such a thing in a very long time. Randy 'The Viper' Orton was definitely driving the Good One mad, because never in his several hundreds of years had he ever felt annoyed before. He was genuinely annoyed and frustrated and so completely turned on by the Evil, and he had no idea why! Shaking his head in exasperation, John merely shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, and for the first time in a long time … I really just couldn't give a damn."

Grabbing the front of Cena's shirt, Randy jerked the Good One forward, once again enfolding his arms around John as their lips reconnected for a second time. Pressing him firmly against the wall, Cena rested his hands on the man's narrow hips, his fingers squeezing into the bone, eliciting a hungry moan from the trapped Evil. Wasting no time at all, quickly coming to the conclusion that this – whatever _this_ was, in fact – had to happen _now_, the Evil shoved his tongue deeper into the hot cavern, the muscle fighting for dominance with the other appendage. While one hand remained draped around John's neck, Orton's free hand slowly slithered down Cena's body, moving down his chest, his fingers running along soft skin that stretched across taut muscle until finally reaching the desired location. The Good One's body was hard and tone and it took everyone Orton had to not rip the man's shirt off right then and there.

Another question was slowly starting to effervesce its way to the surface of his mind, and that was if they were translucent or opaque. Normally it wasn't an issue – they could choose to be _there_ with the people or hidden in the shadows, walking amongst the humans without their knowledge. Now though … with their emotions running faster than they wanted, but being unable to stop it, the Evil didn't know if they were coming in and out of focus. Of course, that thought was immediately forced to the back of his mind when the Good One – whose hands were running up and down his back, one hand sliding to cup one of his cheeks – pushed himself against Orton, Cena's erection brushing against his own creation, as well as the inside of his thigh. Unable to contain the moan he so desperately tried to suppress, Randy let it out, permitting his head to fall back against the brick wall he was currently propped against, whimpering the second John's lips latched onto his neck, sucking and lapping at the flesh.

"Fuck it," John suddenly growled, unable to take the interval delay any longer. His cock – now thick and leaking with precum – was aching with longing, and the Good One didn't want to wait any longer, which was why he wrapped his fingers around the Evil's wrist. "Get on your knees," He instructed, but before he could even allow Orton to process his words, Cena yanked the man down before joining him, pushing him down onto the hard concrete, quickly covering the Evil's lean body with his own.

Grabbing ahold of the black shirt that was stretched tightly across Orton's body, John jerked the Evil up, quickly ridding the man of the garment and tossing it to the side before eradicating his own shirt. Somewhere in the back of his mind, John could see the swirl of colours dancing around them, immersing them in a tantalizing sway of blues, reds, and blacks, but the yearning was too powerful to push behind, which was why the Good One engrossed himself in the Evil. His lips attached to the Evil's collar bone and started to leave a trail down his chest, taking time to nip and peck at the hard muscle and soft skin. The moans and laments coming from Randy were cherubic as he slowly made his way further down Orton's body. Teasing at the end, John kissed the skin that was above the hem of his jeans, his tongue periodically flicking out, goading the flesh that resided underneath the clothing that covered the lower part of Orton's body. Cena could feel the Evil's annoyance and impatience starting to increase with each flick of the tongue – as well as the hungry desire to fulfill his needs.

Finally, enough was enough and, with haste, Randy sat straight up, making Cena break the contact. Grabbing a hold of John's neck, the Evil flipped John over and onto his back. The intent was to scramble on top of the Good One, remove the articles of clothing that were blocking their throbbing cocks, and fuck John senseless, but – shockingly – that wasn't how it panned out. The second John's back connected with the concrete ground, with rapid speed, Cena turned them over again, his huge muscular thighs straddling Orton's leaner body while his hands wrapped around Orton's wrists, thrusting them down onto the ground on either side of his head, pinning him with no escape.

Heavy breathing and cold stares were shared between the two supernatural beings as they glowered at each other. Trust wasn't something they shared for one another and, as they stared each other down, their momentary lust put on hold, both had to wonder what they were even doing. They had to wonder if what they were doing was going to have some ramifications that could jeopardize everything they were, and destroy the bonds of trust they had with their own people. Randy was the first to break the glare. Turning his head to the side, his icy, pale blue eyes narrowed at the tightness John had on his wrists, of how firm his thighs were on either side of his body, holding him down and in submission – something that Orton hated beyond a shadow of a doubt.

"Let me go."

"Why?" John asked his voice low and husky as he continued to watch the Evil below him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he could sense that Randy wasn't taking any pleasure in being held down like any other. Evils were tricky creatures – they fed off of violence and they loved to mess with their victims, pretending that they were down and in submission before turning the tables and doing just what they set out to do. John didn't want to be a victim, he didn't want to lose his head and allow Randy 'The Viper' Orton to destroy everything he had worked for, which was why his grip never wavered, never loosened, not even when Orton started struggling against the hold.

"I said let me go!" He snapped, black and red shimmers radiating off of his body like heat. His hands were clenched tightly in fists as he struggled against the hold Cena had on him, his muscles bulging as he tried to free himself. If there was one thing Randy hated more besides being held down again his will, it was how the image of The Undertaker always seemed to come into mind, plaguing his entire being, scaring him beyond hope.

"I won't let you hurt me, Evil," John shook his head, his senses picking up on the sudden hostility that was emanating from The Viper. A part of him was genuinely concerned as to why the Evil was acting the way he was, but the other part – the more dominant part – was aware of the games they all liked to play, so he decided to become more vigilant in his approach of safety.

"I'm not going to fucking hurt you, damn it. I just want you to let me go," The Viper growled through gritted teeth. He hated going through that kind of fear, that paranoia when he knew that Taker wasn't anywhere near him. It was just the thought, that quick, unexpected flicker of recognition that sprouted wings and refused to allow him to believe anything different when he already knew the truth. That was how Taker worked, though – he thrived on bringing fear, on stalking and breaking down his prey, his enemies and desires. "Please, just let me go."

Against his better judgment, Cena acquiesced to Orton's request, the sudden frantic whisper deriving from the Evil shocking him greatly. Evils were just that – evil. They didn't ask, they took, they stole, and they sinned. And even though _this_ Evil did all of those things … there was just something about him that wasn't right. There was no humanity in the being, but there were flickers of mortality, something that no Evil should possess. When they become Evils, they lose all sense of benevolence and compassion, charity, and become cruel, inhuman. Randy Orton, however, seemed to be a mixture of both …

Hands pressed firmly against his shoulders and before Cena could rationalize what was happening, he was shoved hard onto the concrete floor while Orton stood to his feet, his chest heaving with pent up anger and rage. He was at a disadvantage, John knew that, but as he looked up into the cold, icy, pale blue eyes of The Viper, what he saw was … other. Instead of striking, instead of destroying his very being, the Evil merely glowered down at him before turning around and quickly making his way through the crowds of people in the city of Paris, France. Instead of yelling and screaming and attempting to turn him into the thing he pledged his life to stop, Randy Orton didn't touch him. Confusion and curiosity leaking through, driving his actions, John swiftly jumped to his feet and made his way through the multitudes of people in an effort to catch up to the Evil, to question him and apologize.

Apologize … in the several hundreds of years that he'd been a Good One, not once did John Cena ever believe he'd actually be contemplating an apology to an Evil, and not just any Evil – _the_ Evil. Besides The Undertaker and his other half, Randy 'The Viper' Orton was the one that all Good Ones feared. He was the one with the power, the stamina, and the smarts to outwit all – supernatural beings and mortals. But then why did he not do anything? Evils and Good Ones don't mesh. They hate each other. If given the opportunity, most Evils and Good Ones would jump at the chance to rid the other of an enemy. So why didn't Randy Orton?

Finding Orton wasn't hard at all for John to do, mostly because the Evil was walking around without a shirt on – that, and the black and red shimmers that were emitting from his entire body was enough of a giveaway. Carefully maneuvering his way through the masses, Cena soon gathered step, getting closer and closer to the retreating form of the Evil.

"Hey!" He called his voice easily discernible over the voices of the crowded city. But, of course, it was easily heard for them. Regardless, John's voice did nothing to elicit the attention of The Viper, who made no recognition of hearing the Good One at all. "Randy, stop!"

The deep voice of the Good One was thundering through his ears, but Randy did nothing to stop as he pushed his way through a thick group of people. He needed air, needed to get out of the area and find a place where he could relax and stop thinking for once. Cody was right – he never should have tried to confront John Cena about the souls they were obviously connected to. He shouldn't have tried to confront him when it was too dangerous to begin with. But that was Randy Orton – always thinking, always rationalizing everything … always the cocky one. Look where it got him this time, though. Not only could he have been killed by John Cena, but he panicked when the Good One had him pinned down on the hard concrete ground. That had never happened before. There was always that underlining fear of The Undertaker stalking him, sneaking up on him, touching him, but it was just becoming too much now for Randy to take. He felt like he was slowly losing his mind the longer he was in the presence of the half Ruler of the Underworld. He was never left alone and he was always in a constant state of fear.

"Please, just stop!" John suddenly shouted, startling The Viper a moment before slowly turning around, those icy, pale blue eyes quickly locking on the Good One. He was standing in the middle of a huge crowd of people, though they couldn't see him, and the expression on his face was a mixture between exasperation and impatience. With Orton finally looking at him, John made his way over to him, closing the distance between them. He stopped before him, his eyes full of sympathy as he slowly shook his head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

"No, you had a right to protect yourself," Randy shook his own head, his gaze turning downward. He hated that he felt so pathetic and he hated that he felt like he had to justify everything. "I just … what are we doing here?"

Furrowing his brows in confusion, John shrugged his shoulders. "I don't understand-"

"_This_," Randy said as he motioned between the two of them. His voice grew due to the rising annoyance that was coming with the situation. "What are we doing? We're enemies and we were getting ready to fuck? You don't even know me. I could kill you right now if I wanted to."

"Do you?" As much as it shocked him, John found that the only answer he wanted to know was if Randy cared. Deep down in his subconscious, the Good One knew that he was treading on rocky waters, that the one thing he was doing wrong, he just didn't care about. Maybe it was _Desire_ at work, maybe it was just his own curiosity and humanity at play, but he just couldn't seem to give a damn at that moment. The only thing he did care about was that answer. "Do you want to kill me?"

"I don't kill unless threatened. That back there was just …" Eyes cutting back to the alleyway Randy found himself in with the Good One, Orton merely shrugged his shoulders. He was suddenly beginning to feel really tired with everything that was going on. There was just so much going on with him, Randy felt as though he could barely stand with the weight that was resting on him. "What happened back there was just me. It had nothing to do with you."

"What happened?" John asked, cocking his head to the side as he watched the many emotions flitter across Orton's face.

"What?" Randy replied back, mild shock marring his perfect face as he looked back at Cena.

Shrugging his shoulders, John merely crossed his arms and looked around them, at the people who were milling around them without the acknowledgement of their presence. "Something obviously must have happened to make you respond that way. I mean, I know I probably didn't help, but I honestly thought that you were going to try something on me. Most Evils do."

"I'm not most Evils," Randy allowed himself a small smile as he countered. "I'm-"

"_Desire _– I know," John finished for him. The dimples that he displayed were charming, and the Good One couldn't help but notice how Randy's eyes traveled down to them, how those icy, pale blue eyes gazed over his face, as though he were imprinting his features into memory.

"Actually, I was going to say that I'm not a dick like they are, but I guess that'll work, too."

Face turning serious, John took a step forward, the distance between them slowly closing up. Once again, their essences started to tangle together, the blues, blacks, and reds twisting and twirling together in never ending swirls that neither seemed to have noticed. All the two seemed to care about at all was each other. John was staring at Randy with a look that was an amalgam of curiosity and lust, while Orton's showed caution and covetousness.

"I've never met anyone like you," John finally said, breaking the silence that had befallen them. Eyes scanning over the perfection that was Orton's face, the Good One's hand reached out and softy trailed his fingertips up Randy's bare arm, the light touches stimulating goosebumps. "Can I ask you a question?"

Unable to use his words, Orton merely nodded his head, involuntarily taking a step forward, the feel of Cena's touch comforting and safe – the exact opposite of how it felt when Taker's hands were on him. His heart was racing and his mind was in a jumble, but at the same time, he could hear and see everything.

"Why didn't you kill me back there? You had the chance, you had the opportunity, but you just … walked away," Shaking his head, John peered up into those icy, pale blue eyes, trying to comprehend and discern the mystery that was The Viper. "Any other Evil would have ended me right then and there. You didn't."

"I didn't want to," Randy confessed, knowing that what he was revealing was something dangerous, something that could be used against him if his earlier theory was correct – that John was merely toying with him, and that everything he was doing was simply to get some sort of leverage over him. But after watching Cena's curious expression contort into something a bit more shocking, Orton had a feeling that he might not have to worry about the Good One betraying him, that John was sincerely _good_ and trusting. And as much as the Evil knew he probably shouldn't trust him back in return, there was just something deep down that commanded him to do so – most importantly though … he _wanted_ to. "I just … I know what I am, I just don't like it."

"You're something extraordinary, you know that?" John found himself saying, his sapphire eyes searching those icy, pale blue orbs with curiosity.

Shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly, Randy allowed himself another small smile before looking down. "So I've been told."

Dimples flashing, John chuckled and shook his head. There it was – that cockiness and arrogance that all Evils seemed to possess. Of course, he had a witty reply that he was getting ready to retort back, but a protective sensation immediately overtook the Good One, and John quickly turned his attention to the source of the desperate cry and found the woman that was calling to him. The woman was terrified as she quickly ran past them, her pace filled with urgency as she ran in her heels, pushing and shoving people to get out of her way. Without even thinking about what he was doing – or what he'd be dragging along – Cena grabbed Orton's hand and pulled him in the direction the blonde woman ran off in, his only objective was finding and saving that woman's soul. When they found her, she was leaning against the side of a building, her body flushed against it as she panted for breath, the tears streaming down her face as she shook from fear.

Releasing Randy's hand, the Good One glanced around before becoming translucent. Concern filled his gaze as he slowly took a few steps towards her, immediately gaining her attention. "Maryse …"

The blonde woman now labeled as Maryse opened her eyes and gasped, her thin body giving out on her as she looked around at the world that had suddenly frozen. The once bustling city of Paris, France was silent and still, the bodies in the streets motionless. Her cries of fear only seemed to increase as she extended her hands out, attempting to beg for her life, though no sound could escape her lips other than her sobs.

"Hey, hey," John said, his voice soft and gentle as he got on his knees before the frightened woman, his hands up defensively, as well, showing her that he wasn't going to harm her in any way. "It is okay, Maryse. Everything is going to be okay."

"H-how do you know my name?" Maryse asked her voice just as shaky as the rest of her body. Her eyes were wide as she looked from John to the rest of the frozen city. She was convinced that she was seeing things that she must have fallen and hit her head, and this was the aftermath. The blonde woman shook her head, blinked her eyes several times, doing anything she could think of to wake up from the strange unconsciousness, but nothing happened. When she opened her eyes, the man with the beautiful sapphire eyes was still there, still staring at her with a look of patience. He smiled, his dimples on display, showing her how friendly he was. He exerted warmth and a feeling of safety, and even though Maryse tried to remain cautious and alert, there was just something about him that got to her, convincing her to just drop her guard, that she'd be alright to do so.

"My name is John and I know everything about you, Maryse. I'm here to help you," He finally said, watching the blonde woman very closely after his revelation.

"I don't … I don't understand," Maryse said, shaking her head again. "What's happening? Who are you? What do you want from me?"

"The only thing I want from you is happiness and safety," John said, holding his hand out. He wouldn't reach for her, the last thing he wanted to do was frighten her any more than she already was, so he waited. After a moment's hesitation, Maryse lifted a shaky hand and put it in John's much larger one. The Good One gave her a kind smile before continuing. "You're not happy, are you, Maryse?" She shook her head in reply, her eyes casting downward. "If you're not happy then why are you still with Curt Hawkins?"

"I … I don't have any money of my own. If I stay with him then he provides everything for me. I won't have to worry about anything," Maryse answered, shamefully. She had told herself so many times before that what she was doing was the right thing to do. After all, Curt Hawkins had lived up to his end of the deal, taking care of her, giving her a nice place to live and enough money to do with what she will. It was just as of recently that he started to change his behaviour, sticking around longer than he should … touching her … it didn't take long for Maryse to figure out what was happening, and even though she hated it, what could she do? Curt Hawkins was the only thing keeping her from living on the streets.

"But you know what he's doing is wrong."

"I don't have a choice," Maryse shook her head before looking back up at John. "Who are you, anyway? How do you know so much about me?"

Squeezing her hand lightly, John gave a reassuring smile before moving a bit closer to her, taking her other hand in his. "Think of me as that little guy on your shoulder guiding you down the right path. I want to take care of you, Maryse, but first, you have to take care of yourself."

"So you're my … conscience …?"

"Yes, in a manner of speaking, I am."

Maryse couldn't believe what she was hearing, but for some odd reason, she actually believed the man named John, trusted that he was telling her the truth. All at once, the weight of what she was carrying on her shoulders bared down on her, crushing her, making her feel weak, pathetic, naïve for even believing a word Curt Hawkins every said to her. Like he would actually take care of her without wanting something back in return, and that one thing he wanted was something she didn't want to just give away on a whim.

"What do I do?" Maryse found herself asking, another wave of tears forming in her eyes as she stared at John. "I don't want to live like this."

"You already know what you need to do, Maryse. Gather what you need and leave. You are a beautiful and strong woman, and you're smart, which means you have the power to take care of yourself. You don't need that guy doing it for you, especially when he is only taking care of you for one reason."

"Where will I go?"

"Anywhere, but here," John said, his voice gentle. He didn't want to tell the blonde woman what would happen if she continued to stay around Paris, France, particularly with that Curt Hawkins character around, so he decided to hint around the edges, warn her, but not fully express what would – and possibly could – happen if she stuck around. "You said that he gave you money, correct?"

Maryse nodded her head, her attention direct and focused. "He gives me several hundred to go shopping every week. He told me it was to pamper me, that I was too beautiful to do anything else."

"Take that money, Maryse, buy a plane ticket, and fly to Los Angeles, California. You'll be safe there," John instructed his eyes boring into the blonde woman's, hoping she would understand how crucial it was for her to get out as fast as she can. "When you get there, find a hotel, pay with cash, and find a job. Take care of yourself."

"Will I be happy?" She asked her eyes propitious.

Smiling, John nodded his head. "You will be happy. I promise."

Maryse was on her knees when she blinked, the world around her loud, full of bustling people trying to get to and from. She had no idea what came over her, why she felt so rejuvenated and ready to take on the world, but for some reason, she just didn't care. The blonde woman felt excited and elated and, as she pushed herself to her feet, Maryse knew that things were going to get better. A plan soon formed in her head and she walked confidently down the street. Maybe a trip to America was in order, perhaps LA, even. She had heard all about it, knew that that was where all of the action happened. Perhaps she could audition for a movie or see if she could model. The possibilities were endless and to be honest, Maryse couldn't wait.

With that euphoric feeling making its way through Cena's body, the Good One took a moment to close his eyes and take in the pleasant sensations, loving the feel of a saved soul. It was heavenly and it made him feel as though there really was hope. Sapphire eyes immediately shot open when he felt a darker presence behind him, and the Good One quickly turned around, only to find Randy Orton staring at him with an odd expression on his face. He had almost forgot that the Evil was there, and then he remembered grabbing his hand and pulling him along as he followed Maryse Ouellet through the people. Only then did John realize just how much danger he had put his charge in, how close she could have been to falling into the depths of evil. Nothing happened, though, and that's what surprised Cena the most as he stared back at The Viper. _Why didn't he do anything?_

"That's how you do it then?" Randy finally asked. It was then that John realized that throughout the entire saving process, The Viper never became visible to Maryse. He stayed back, unseen. "I've never seen a soul being saved before."

"Why didn't you do anything?" John questioned in response. The tone of his voice was both forceful and blunt, but laced with confusion and curiosity. The Good One could feel his heart pounding in his chest faster than that of a human. The sudden boost of adrenaline that coursed through Cena was shocking due to the fact that it only came because Randy 'The Viper' Orton controlled his need for a lost soul. This was something that could change the entire game. "You could have done it, but you didn't. You turned Melina when I was trying to save her. Why didn't you turn Maryse?"

"Maybe that's the exact reason why I didn't, besides the fact that I didn't want to," Randy said, taking a step back. He didn't like the way John was demanding an answer out of him, didn't like that he had a look on his face as though he had just discovered something, though he had. The Evil knew what Cena was thinking and he hated that he allowed it to come to that. Slowly his walls started to build, his expression cold. "Don't get any ideas, Cena. You won't get far with them."

"Evils aren't able to hold off their impulses, Randy! They can't stop themselves, but you did. You're special …"

"Yes, I thought we already distinguished that much," The Evil said his voice crisp as he stared hard at John, who was pacing excitedly, though he had no idea why. All he knew was that he didn't trust the way John was acting and grew cautious of it even.

"Do you have any idea what this means?" John asked his tone animated while his sapphire eyes sparkled in the sun. Without warning, Cena closed the distance between them and grabbed Randy's arms, pulling him close, ignoring the warning hiss that emanated deep within Orton's throat. "If you are able to stop corrupting then maybe you are able to save, as well."

"Excuse me?" Randy questioned after a moment, the annoyance in his voice gone, being replaced with utter confusion. _What was he saying?_

"You're stronger, Randy – stronger than me, stronger than all of the Good Ones. You could be the one to switch sides, to save this world."

"Okay, this is too much," Randy said, quickly freeing himself of John's grip. He took several steps back and crossed his arms, immediately feeling too exposed and out in the open, even though he was still concealed from the busy city and clumps of people still milling around them. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"You're good. You don't see it, you don't believe it, but it's the truth. You're strong, because The Undertaker made you this way, but this isn't you. You didn't ask for this, did you?"

"What are you proposing exactly, Cena?"

Cocking his head to the side, the Good One could see that the Evil before him was starting to get agitated with the way the conversation was going. It was sure to be confusing, considering that corrupting was the only thing he knew for the longest time, so Cena knew that it was time to just let it go for the time being. He wouldn't ignore it, though, and he wouldn't let it dwindle away. He loved what he was doing and he knew that, with the way things were going, it wouldn't be long before Evil manifested into something far greater than what it was now. For the time being, though, John would let it go.

"I'm proposing nothing," He finally said, giving a small smile before looking around. "I have to get back to Paradise. Will I see you again?"

"Oh, I'm sure we will," Randy replied, nodding his head lightly as he studied the Good One. He had no idea what was going on with him, but he wasn't sure what he liked more – not know what Cena was talking about or not caring at all.

A dimpled smile was his only gesture of a goodbye as John disappeared, leaving Orton alone in the city of Paris, France. That was fine with him, though. He needed time to think, to clear his head and get it back into the right frame of mind.

_ You're special …_

_ You're good … You don't see it, you don't believe it, but it's the truth …_

_ You're strong … The Undertaker made you this way …_

_ But this isn't you …_

He had no idea what that meant at all – any of it. Obviously, he was Taker's favourite; he had never seen anyone get as much attention as he did when the half Ruler of the Underworld was around. Was that what the Good One was referring to? The fact that Taker was always pushing him to corrupt, to keep corrupting and ever stop – even though he did a hell of a lot more when they were alone? John Cena's sudden revelation that he was good and that he was strong enough to fight was shocking to Orton, and he didn't know what to do with the newfound information. What did Cena want him to do with it? Surely he didn't want Randy to fight Taker, because that would be a horrible mistake. He might be strong – as Cena says – but questioning Taker's position and threatening to overtake him would only result in his death … that or punishment. It wasn't worth the risk if that's what Cena was thinking.

He had to admit, though, the thought was fun to play around with. A world without Taker's prying hands and harsh grip was something to think about. He could live without it that was for sure. Another thing he could live without was those disgustingly cold lips on his skin. Just thinking about that cold, dark, claustrophobic feeling of being trapped against the wall while Taker assaulted and violated him just made him shudder.

Regardless of how Randy felt with Taker's hands on him, he pushed it aside as he shimmered off to another part of the world, coming to rest at his favourite place – the San Francisco Bridge. Sitting down on the metal at the very top, the Evil leaned back and closed his eyes, letting out a content sigh as he thought back to what had just transpired. At the moment, he just didn't want to really think, so instead, he decided to recall what he felt when the Good One's hands were on him, running up and down his body. He reminisced on how it felt to have those lips on him, kissing him, pecking at his hot skin. It was a feeling Randy enjoyed and something he couldn't wait to experience again.


End file.
